


we've got one thing in common (it's this mouth of mine)

by shikae (39smooth)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: A lot of sex, Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/39smooth/pseuds/shikae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun is a phone sex operator whose number Kyungsoo accidentally dials, again and again and again. Maybe not so accidentally, the next couple of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've got one thing in common (it's this mouth of mine)

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted may 2015, for sooenaemoured.

He gets stuck with buying the pizza, as usual. Movie nights at Chanyeol’s place always turn into them bickering over who should fork out money each time around, and most of the time, Kyungsoo ends up volunteering just so he can get back at them by purchasing all their most hated toppings.  
  
Chanyeol and Jongdae are already chattering their faces off over in the living area, attempting to pick a movie to watch (keyword: attempting; Kyungsoo knows they’ll take at least another half an hour for them to decide between  _Django Unchained_  and  _The Da Vinci Code_ ), and even when Kyungsoo trudges upstairs to find somewhere quieter to make the call, he can still hear Jongdae’s indignant squawk over Chanyeol insulting Tom Hanks’ acting abilities again.  
  
He peers at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, with the number of some new pizza parlour that Chanyeol had insisted on trying tonight, written in Jongdae’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Kyungsoo dials in the number, presses the phone to his ear, and waits for someone to pick up.  
  
The soft beeping tone gives way to a low rumble of, “Hey there,” a scratchy purr that makes Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow, “what’s your name, darling?”  
  
“Uhm,” says Kyungsoo, and he glances back at the paper in his hand. “This isn’t Pizza Candy, is it?”  
  
There’s a laugh, a little burst that tides back into the same low voice that first greeted him, definitely male, definitely more sensual than a pizza take-away guy would sound. “Not in the slightest.” Kyungsoo can almost hear the grin on the other end of the line. “This is a phone sex line.”  
  
“Wrong number, then, sorry,” starts Kyungsoo, but then his brain catches up with the words, and he splutters, “did you say  _phone sex line?_ ”  
  
“Yes, I did.” The voice sounds amused. Kyungsoo thinks he has good reason to be, considering the situation. “Why? Are you interested? I charge my services by the hour.”  
  
“I’m hanging up now,” says Kyungsoo, “goodbye, but I’m really—this was a misdial.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Why isn’t Kyungsoo hanging up yet, why is he still listening to the soft breathing from the other end of the line. “You might change your mind after hearing what I could do for you.”  
  
“I’m not into cheap thrills,” says Kyungsoo, finger still hovering over the ‘end call’ button.  
  
“You might be glad to know then,” comes the soft roll of words, “I don’t come cheap at all. But I can make it worth your while.”  
  
“Thanks, but no thanks,” says Kyungsoo, and he hears the man laugh again, “probably in another lifetime.”  
  
“So there’s a chance you might call back, then.”  
  
“What—no, I didn’t say that. Why would I even call back?”  
  
“The same reason you haven’t hung up.” The voice turns suggestive again, and something in Kyungsoo coils suddenly. “What’s your name?”  
  
“I don’t tell strangers my name.”  
  
“My name is Baekhyun.” The syllables roll off his tongue, lilting, lingering, stirring. Kyungsoo shakes his head, and pretends there isn’t anything making his heart thump just a little quicker. “I’m not a stranger anymore, am I, now?”  
  
“Kyungsoo,” he finds himself answering, and his eyes go wide at the sound of his own voice, strangely compelled now to reply, “my name is Kyungsoo, there, and I’m hanging up for real now.”  
  
“Call back soon, Kyungsoo,” whispers the voice wickedly, “And not on accident either, next time.”  
  
Kyungsoo ends the call.  
  
There’s a brief moment where he replays the conversation in his head, and wonders, did that really just happen? “Jesus,” he says, “that was weird.”  
  
“Kyungsoo,” yells Jongdae from downstairs, “what’s taking so long?”  
  
“Nothing,” responds Kyungsoo, and he shakes his head, making his way back downstairs. “I think the number you gave me is faulty.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s barely a week later when it happens again, Kyungsoo absentmindedly pressing the keys on his phone (“So out-dated,” says Chanyeol, “phone with a keypad, Christ, Kyungsoo, get with the times”) and only half-paying attention to the number that he’s dialing in as Jongdae and Chanyeol argue in the background over  _Constantine_  and  _Pacific Rim_.  
  
He’s got his head in the fridge, phone against his cheek and pressed to his shoulder as he reaches around for the soju, mumbling, “Where the fuck is the bottle.” Chanyeol’s fridge is a mess, he thinks, as he knocks over a bottle of hot-sauce labelled as soy, and accidentally scrapes the side of his palm against what seems to be four-week-old tofu. “Ah.”  
  
The line finally picks up, and Kyungsoo mutters, “Shit,” when his elbow knocks against the mess of yesterday’s Chinese take-out. “Yeah, hello? Is this the pizza place?”  
  
“What if I say yes?”  
  
This is not the pizza place.  
  
Kyungsoo straightens up, nearly hits his head on the door, and shifts his handphone to the other ear. “Not you again.”  
  
“Hey, hey.” The voice is still as charming as the first time around. “You’re the one who called me, darling.”  
  
“Don’t call me darling.” Kyungsoo frowns. “And I’m still not interested, anyway.”  
  
“More into the pizza, I see,” murmurs the voice, sleek, smooth. “But why not give me a chance? I’ll really make it worth your while.”  
  
“You said that the first time around,” says Kyungsoo, ignoring the two in the living room, and trudging upstairs to his room. They can deal without him for now.  
  
“Ah,” says the voice, and just that one syllable does something strange to Kyungsoo, all of a sudden. It’s breathed out through the mouthpiece, and Kyungsoo clutches at his phone, brow furrowing. No—he’s not, he doesn’t—Kyungsoo shakes his head, and locks his door behind him, moving to sit himself on his bed. “So you remember. I remember you too, Kyungsoo. Do you remember my name, babe?”  
  
Kyungsoo is tempted to just say no and hang up, but something keeps him from doing so. Something keeps him hanging onto the voice, the words. This stranger who seems to not want to give up on him. “Baekhyun,” he answers, and it flows off his tongue easily, a sticky sounding name that drags itself out from his throat and catches on the back of his teeth. “You’re Baekhyun.”  
  
A laugh. “Ding ding, winner. Would you like a prize for that, Kyungsoo?”  
  
Kyungsoo must be mad. Kyungsoo must be going insane. Kyungsoo answers, “What are you offering?”  
  
This time, the laugh comes as a surprised bark, that smoothes down into something sultry again. “Oh. You’re finally playing along, now, are you? How delightful.” Kyungsoo can practically feel the smile that comes with the words. “I hope you’re sitting down.”  
  
“I am,” says Kyungsoo, and a part of him is wondering what the fuck he’s gotten into, but another part of him is screaming,  _god yes_. “So is this where I ask you what you’re wearing, and whatnot?”  
  
“If you want to know.” A soft, shuddering breath. “Absolutely nothing.”  
  
Kyungsoo knows that’s a lie. Then, why is his heart thuddering in his chest? “You know that I know that can’t be true.”  
  
“Of course. But that doesn’t mean you can’t pretend. Besides, that’s what this is all about. Pretending, Kyungsoo.” A soft hum, that rumbles through Kyungsoo. “Pretend that I’m wearing nothing, nothing at all, and I’m spread out across your bed, across those sheets of yours, waiting for you, just waiting.”  
  
“I don’t even know what you look like,” breathes Kyungsoo, eyes glancing furtively towards his sheets. He imagines a naked young man for just a second, looking up at him with a teasing smile, and Kyungsoo swallows hard. “Tell me what you look like, then.”  
  
“They say I’m attractive,” comes his voice, “dark brown hair that you could slide your fingers through and tug on. My eyes curve like crescents. Imagine seeing me, my head thrown back and my eyes squeezing shut, moaning your name, moaning for you. You like that, don’t you? I bet you would love to be on top. I’m slender enough to be picked up and slammed into the mattress.  _God_ , just imagine it, your hands bruising into my hips, as you’re holding me down, and fucking me.”  
  
Kyungsoo releases the breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding. He glances down momentarily, and he’s half-hard.  _Fucking hell._  
  
“You’re getting hard, aren’t you, Kyungsoo?” A little chuckle. “I bet you have the prettiest cock, don’t you? Touch yourself, Kyungsoo, imagine it’s my hand on you.”  
  
He presses the heel of his palm against his burgeoning erection before he knows what he’s doing, and a soft stutter of a breath escapes his mouth. Baekhyun appears to have heard it, for he goes on.  
  
“That’s it,” he croons, “that’s right, Kyungsoo, touch yourself just like that, come on.”  
  
Kyungsoo thinks, he’s going to hell for this.  
  
He slides his hand past the waistband of his pants, coming up to wrap two fingers around his cock, and he gives it a slow, downward stroke. He releases a soft breath from his mouth, and listens for what’s next.  
  
“You’ve got your hand around yourself, don’t you? Come on,” he urges, “think about my hand around your cock instead. I have pretty hands. Pretty fingers. Long and slim and just the right length to wrap around your cock, steady and nice and warm. Imagine me stroking you, thumbing my finger over the head, slowly edging up along the underside of your gorgeous cock.”  
  
“Yeah,” says Kyungsoo, a little breathlessly, and he’s doing just that, touching himself to the sound of Baekhyun’s voice telling him what to do, telling him what to imagine. He imagines a slimmer palm, longer fingers, fisting his cock and rubbing right there, near the head where he’s most sensitive, and he bites his lower lip to keep from making noise, to keep from letting the others downstairs accidentally hear, if a moan drifts their way. “Oh, god.”  
  
“You’re so close,” says Baekhyun, and his voice sounds more like a moan now, a low moan that shoots straight down Kyungsoo’s spine and makes him speed up the pace of his strokes, one hand behind him on the bed, curling into the sheets, “oh, you’re so fucking close, Kyungsoo, come on, come for me, come on.”  
  
He comes in thick spurts across the front of his pants, biting back the loud groan that threatens to push past his lips, but he can’t stop the panting moans that come after, soft and repeating, and he says, “Fuck.”  
  
“We can save that for next time,” comes the murmur, “for now, I think you’ve had quite the night, haven’t you, Kyungsoo?”  
  
“You can say that again,” mutters Kyungsoo, cursing at the mess he’s made. “This—this was just a one time thing, alright? Don’t expect anymore.”  
  
“I’m not expecting anything, Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun doesn’t even sound like he’s broken a sweat, through the dirty talk and the urging and the soft moaning. “Well, maybe I am hoping that you’ll change your mind.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because,” he says, humming low in his throat, “you’re so fun to play with.”  
  
“Goodbye,” says Kyungsoo, and he hangs up, breathing hard. “Holy shit.”  
  
God. Did he just. Jerk off. To the sound of another man’s voice behind a phone?  
  
And with his two best friends right below, where they could have barged in at any second, where they could have heard him, where they could have seen.  
  
“Oh god,” says Kyungsoo, and he’s shaking his head. This is so fucked up. “I’m never doing this again, I swear to god, I’m burning that phone number, I am.”  
  
(He doesn’t.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He doesn’t dare make any absentminded calls now. Every single person he phones, he checks and rechecks the number meticulously, to make sure that he doesn’t end up phoning Baekhyun again. There’s no way he’s going to allow himself the mistake of doing that again.  
  
Despite the fact that it had been insanely hot.  
  
But that’s out of the question.  
  
Kyungsoo vows to never, ever, ever, call that number again, whether on accident or on purpose.  
  
But of course, all promises were meant to be broken.  
  
It’s a Friday night, and the idiot duo are out on the town, probably partying it up with some of the other kids from their college. Kyungsoo has decided to stay at home, with his books, and actual pizza this time. Because it’s cool, he doesn’t need to go out to have fun. Reading about old Russian history and the time Lenin had a private war with the intelligentsia of his country is more than enough fun for him. Right? Sure, right, definitely.  
  
(He’s been single for so long, he doesn’t even remember what it feels like to know a warm body against his. Is he lonely or is he just alone?)  
  
And there’s pizza, Kyungsoo reassures himself, a big, cheesy pizza with pepperoni and even more cheese, baked to perfection and delivered to his front door without any dubious phone calls or smooth, charming voices. No, no more thoughts about that. Kyungsoo shakes his head, attempting to shove away any thoughts of Baekhyun.  
  
He will not. He will not. He will not.  
  
His phone rings. Kyungsoo scrambles for it, and answers with a, “Yeah, Kyungsoo here.”  
  
“Kyungsoo,” screams Jongdae, “are you still sure you don’t want to come join us? It’s fucking amazing right now, Chanyeol’s doing body shots off some random girl! In the middle of the dancefloor! We’re probably going to get kicked out soon, but who cares? Kyungsoo, come on, man!”  
  
“I’m fine, Jongdae,” yells Kyungsoo, and he lowers his voice, wondering if his neighbours can hear him shouting to presumeably no one. “Have fun.”  
  
“If you say so,” comes Jongdae’s voice, and just as he hangs up, Kyungsoo can hear a loud whooping sound in the background, and the sound of something shattering.  
  
Those two get up to way too much trouble, he figures.  
  
The night goes on, and after a while, it begins to get a bit too quiet. Even with a movie on, Kyungsoo longs for something more, and regrets not going out with them. Maybe he could have put past his fear of social contact and actually had fun for once.  
  
His gaze flits over to where his phone is sitting on the table. Maybe… no. No way in hell. He’s not going to do that. He’s not going to call a phone sex line just so he can talk to someone.  
  
 _But it’s lonely_ , whines a part of Kyungsoo, that barely ever surfaces. That little devil on his shoulder.  _You’re so lonely, don’t you want to just talk to someone?_  
  
“Maybe,” says Kyungsoo aloud, and he hesitates, before reaching over to grab his phone. The number hasn’t been deleted, instead, it’s been saved under the name  _‘don’t fucking call this number,’_ and Kyungsoo laughs. He’s so weak, giving in like this. “But,” he says to himself, “it’s not like I’m calling for sex. I’m just calling to talk. Is that even possible? Can I do that?”  
  
Do sex hotlines work that way too? He might as well just call  _The Befrienders_ , if he’s going to do that.  
  
His thumb hovers over the dial button.  
  
“No,” he murmurs, “no, don’t do it, Do Kyungsoo, you have more self-restraint than that.”  
  
There’s a pause. “Screw self-restraint,” he says, and he presses dial, and slumps back into the sofa cushions, pressing his phone to his ear as he waits for the other end to pick up.  
  
 _Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Beep, beep._  
  
“What can I do for you tonight, darling?”  
  
“Just talk,” says Kyungsoo, and he can feel the surprise coming from the other end, “hi, I know, it’s me, and I just—I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess. This is so weird, I’m sorry.”  
  
“That’s nowhere near weird,” comes the amused answer, “I work as a phone sex operator, I’ve heard stranger. But… you just want to talk?”  
  
“Yes,” says Kyungsoo, fingers digging into the sofa cushion. “Just talk.”  
  
There’s a slight pause. “Feeling lonely, now, are you?”  
  
“Just a little.” Kyungsoo wonders if he should say. “My friends are out drinking tonight. I didn’t go with them.”  
  
“Why not?” Baekhyun’s voice is different, now. More normally-pitched. Less sultry, less low. Maybe, thinks Kyungsoo, he’s got different voices for each situation. He likes this one. It sounds easy, inviting. Wait—Kyungsoo blinks, and scrunches up his nose. He shouldn’t think that. He can’t just like some random stranger’s voice after hearing him talk just twice. “Not the clubbing type?”  
  
“Not quite,” admits Kyungsoo, “and, well. People. I’m not the people type.”  
  
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re my type.”  
  
Kyungsoo flushes, and Baekhyun laughs. “You don’t even know a thing about me,” says Kyungsoo in amusement, “where do you even get these lines from? Christ.”  
  
“After you work this kind of job for a while, you get pretty smart at replying.” Baekhyun’s cheek is apparent through his tone, and Kyungsoo, strangely enough, wants to hear more of it. “So, what are you wearing?”  
  
“I said I just wanted to talk,” says Kyungsoo, “not jerk off again.”  
  
“Oh, but that’s so much more fun though.” He can just imagine the pout that the man has on his face right now. “Well, if you insist. But feel free to change your mind at anytime, darling.”  
  
“Again, no calling me darling,” grumbles Kyungsoo, “and I do insist.”  
  
“As long as I get paid,” says Baekhyun cheerfully, and Kyungsoo can hear the scraping of chair legs against the floor, and a loud thump that sounds like something hitting a table. “Ignore that, I’m just getting comfy here.”  
  
“You work in an office or something?” Kyungsoo imagines office drones, in cubicles, dressed in slacks and button-up shirts, and spewing the dirtiest talk imaginable, all with straight faces.  
  
“Something like that,” answers Baekhyun, “I get a nice little cubicle, but a very private, spacious one. You could say it’s a very small room, then. Also, Casual Thursdays are every day. It wouldn’t be fun to answer sex line calls in a tie now, would it?”  
  
“I can imagine,” says Kyungsoo. He really can. On the other hand, an office fantasy plays on the back of his mind, and he has to hit himself on the back of the head to let it pass. “So. Do you literally just answer the phone and say the same things to everyone who calls?”  
  
“It depends. Sometimes customers can get pretty specific.” His laugh is refreshing to hear. “Maybe they want a certain scenario. Maybe they want something a little kinkier than usual. As long as it’s feasible, I’m game.”  
  
“So, I could just give you a situation, and you could create some sort of elaborate, dirty talking fantasy with it?”  
  
His voice shifts, and  _oh_ , thinks Kyungsoo, his stomach jumping. “Tell me, Kyungsoo. What are you thinking about now? Come on. Just tell me. For the sake of explaination, hmm, babe?”  
  
Kyungsoo grips at his phone. Well. No harm, he guesses.  
  
“I was just thinking about some office fantasy,” says Kyungsoo, and he can hear the pleased smile in Baekhyun’s hum, “since we’d just been talking about that.”  
  
“Office fantasy,” purrs Baekhyun, “you mean, imagining me bent over a desk as you, Mister CEO of the company, fucks me hard and fast, the door unlocked, maybe in a conference room with walls of glass, praying to god that nobody passes by? Or maybe even hoping that someone does, just so you can indulge in the looks on their faces, as they watch you drive your cock straight into me. Oh, god, that’d be so hot, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“I—“ says Kyungsoo, breathing heavily. Baekhyun is hitting all the right places, and he doesn’t even know how he’s doing it. “Go on.” His hand subconsciously slips down, falling to rest on his thigh.  
  
“You’d have a fist around the end of my tie,” continues Baekhyun casually, “tugging me back, hissing into my ear, be a good boy, or that promotion’s gone. You would, wouldn’t you? Just to see me submit to you. And oh god, I would. I would so badly, I would kneel down and take your cock right into my mouth, right there and then, and you could twist your fingers into my hair and call my name and I would suck you off so hard that your knees would give out.”  
  
“Fucking hell,” whispers Kyungsoo. His cock is beginning to throb, and oh god, he’s not supposed to be doing this, he’s not supposed to be wanting his hand around his dick again, he’s supposed to just be calling for conversation and not insanely hot, kinky sex fantasies supplied by the smoothest, most charming voice he’s ever heard in his life. “Baekhyun.”  
  
“Baekhyun,” he moans, “oh god, Baekhyun, you’d say, and I’d look straight up at you, mouth around your dick, and groan, fuck me, oh sir, please fuck me, and you’d take me right then and there. Shove me up against the desk, let my pants fall down to the ground, drive your cock so hard into me that I’d be crying out for more.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s hand is already around his cock, stroking lightly, almost hazily, as he listens to Baekhyun over the line, his mind coming up with the images of himself fucking a faceless man into tears.  
  
“Are you enjoying this yet, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun’s voice travels down his spine in a soft shiver. “I bet you are. I bet you have your hand around your cock, just thinking about it. Thinking about me, muffling my moans into my own arm, trying not to scream out your name, oh, fuck, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Say that again,” breathes Kyungsoo, face flushing even as he replays his own words in his mind, but he wants—he wants it so badly, he wants to hear Baekhyun doing exactly what he’s said, “say my name again, like that.”  
  
“Kyungsoo,” comes the breathy moan, “oh god, sir, I want you to fuck me so hard,  _Kyungsoo._ ”  
  
Kyungsoo comes, unable to hold back the stuttery groan that pitches forth from his throat, and there’s come all over his hand, now, and embarrassment shooting up his spine. “Oh god.”  
  
There’s a little giggle. What the fuck, thinks Kyungsoo despondently, how can he sound cute right after all of that? “That sounded like fun.”  
  
Kyungsoo makes a sad noise. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”  
  
“An orgasm is a natural reaction by the body,” says Baekhyun conversationally, “were you expecting something else? Brainfreeze, internal bleeding, perhaps?”  
  
“Very funny.” Kyungsoo sighs, and he glances up at the clock. It’s only nine thirty. He’s hours away from knocking out, and tomorrow’s a weekend. What’s there to lose? “So. Tell me about yourself.”  
  
“Making progress.” There it is again, that scratchy laugh. “My name is Baekhyun. I’m twenty-one this year.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The phone calls continue, despite Kyungsoo’s better judgement. It’s probably a terrible idea to become friendly with a man he’s never met before, and even more than that, a man whom he’s only interacted with via sexual phone calls and hypothetical fantasies that end in Kyungsoo’s hand in his pants, and the craving for more.  
  
This isn’t healthy, thinks Kyungsoo, not a single bit.  
  
He’s in class, and he can’t stop his mind from drifting off once in a while, replaying the sound of Baekhyun’s moans in his head. He’s addicted to that voice, now. Kyungsoo can’t help it. There’s something that keeps him coming back for more.  
  
Baekhyun is kind of an idiot, though, Kyungsoo has found out. Makes terrible jokes, thinks way too highly of himself, and sounds like the kind of person his two best friends are. They’d get along well, they would. Not that Kyungsoo dares of introducing them. No. Not at all. That’d be a terrible idea.  
  
He imagines the idea briefly though.  _Hey_ , he’d say, brandishing his phone towards Chanyeol and Jongdae, and flicking speakerphone on.  _Meet Baekhyun. He’s my phone sex operator._  
  
 _My_  phone sex operator. Kyungsoo snorts at himself. God. What’s wrong with him?  
  
“Kyungsoo,” says Jongdae, and suddenly, Kyungsoo is aware of a pair of fingers being snapped in front of his face. “You alright, there? Been spacing out a lot, haven’t you?”  
  
“Let him be,” says Chanyeol easily, “he’s probably thinking about porn.”  
  
Kyungsoo levels a stare on him. Chanyeol melts into the floor. “I am not thinking about porn,” he states, but even as he says that, he thinks of Baekhyun’s supposesly long, slim fingers, and thinks about his voice moaning Kyungsoo’s name, and he’s thoroughly distracted again.  
  
Jongdae sniggers. “Sure, you’re not.” He pats Kyungsoo on the shoulder, and gets up. “I’m gonna be meeting a friend for lunch. See you guys.”  
  
They wave him off, and make their own way to a restaurant nearby to eat, a little hole-in-the-wall that Chanyeol absolutely loves for the cold noodles. Kyungsoo’s wallet enjoys this place as well, and he spends a good hour chatting with Chanyeol about their next gig.  
  
The two of them occasionally take part in little lounge and club performances, with Chanyeol on the guitar, and Kyungsoo on the microphone. Kyungsoo loves singing, he loves it, with every fibre of his being. He can’t imagine not doing it. And performing with Chanyeol is more fun than it sounds. Chanyeol might be a doofus, sometimes, but when he gets up there on stage, he knows how to work it, and Kyungsoo appreciates that.  
  
They’re discussing song choices, when suddenly, a familiar laugh can be heard, coming from outside. They’re sitting near the entrance, so Kyungsoo lifts his head to glance around. Someone from school, maybe?  
  
He hears it again, and this time, his body freezes. It’s too familiar.  
  
He’s spent nights hearing it, over the past few weeks.  
  
It’s Baekhyun, isn’t it?  
  
He nearly puts his hand in the soup when he leans over to see, but he doesn’t catch sight of anyone. Probably walked past the place. It might not have even been him. It could have been Kyungsoo’s mind playing tricks on him. God. Kyungsoo shakes his head. He’s going insane.  
  
Chanyeol is staring at him with a strange look. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” reassures Kyungsoo, “yes, I’m good. You were saying something about Vodka Rain? Or was that Vanilla Acoustic?”  
  
Chanyeol flings himself back into conversation easily, and Kyungsoo follows, attempting to not think about Baekhyun’s laugh, attempting to not think about Baekhyun at all.  
  
(He fails miserably.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s not even later that week, or later that month. It’s that very same day, that night, that Kyungsoo slumps back onto his bed, dials in the familiar number, and shakes his head, even as the dial-tone rings.  
  
“Kyungsoo,” comes his voice, delighted, and Kyungsoo can imagine him leaning back in his little swivel chair, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just in time, aren’t you? I just got off the phone with another customer.”  
  
“Oh, really now.” Kyungsoo hasn’t really given it much thought before, but thinking about Baekhyun doing the same things with other people makes him feel something swirl in his gut. “And how was that?”  
  
“Well,” says Baekhyun, a sing-song tone to his voice, “let’s just say it was… fun.”  
  
“Fun?”  
  
“I talked him through fucking himself on a nice, big vibrator. You wouldn’t happen to own one, now, would you?”  
  
The words send a jolt up his spine. Kyungsoo’s never—he’s never thought about that before. Using a toy, or anything. He imagines Baekhyun’s crooning voice, speaking over a faceless, nameless someone’s soft pants, as they drive a dildo inside them. Kyungsoo bites his lip, and shuts his eyes.  
  
“No?” There’s a pause. “Oh, you’ve never… touched yourself… like that before, then?” He sounds innocent, but the lilt in his words is teasing enough for Kyungsoo to be persuaded into answering.  
  
“No,” he breathes, and Baekhyun makes an interested hum. “Why?”  
  
“I could show you,” he murmurs, “I could talk you through it. Why not try something new? Maybe not a vibrator, but fingers up your own ass is just as good.”  
  
“You want me to finger myself?”  
  
“You mean you don’t want to? What a waste.” Baekhyun chuckles. “I could have made it so good, so easy for you.”  
  
Kyungsoo lets out an exhale. “How would you have?”  
  
Baekhyun’s voice is soft. “Take off your pants, Kyungsoo. Do you have lube? Get that, and lie down on the bed.”  
  
Kyungsoo scrambles to go find some, moving to his bathroom to pull out that one bottle of lube that Chanyeol had jokingly gave him for his birthday once, a weird, edible, cherry-flavoured thing that Kyungsoo now stares at, as he shucks his trousers and underwear off, and gets back on his bed. He feels strange, even though he’s alone, even though nobody’s watching as he gives his cock a light stroke, listening to Baekhyun’s breathing on the other end. “Go on.”  
  
“I want you to slick up your fingers, nice and slow. Make sure you get the lube all the way down to the knuckle.”  
  
Kyungsoo does, tipping out cold lube onto his hand, and smearing it across his fingers, rubbing it a little to warm it. “Yeah.” He sets the phone on speaker, and lets it sit beside him, just next to his pillow. “What do I—“  
  
“Slowly,” murmurs Baekhyun, “move your fingers down, to your hole. Circle the rim a few times, lightly, yeah, that’s it. Can you feel it? How tense you are? How tight you are down there? Slide the tip of your finger in, feel yourself around your finger, feel how wet your finger is, come on, Kyungsoo.”  
  
He hesitates, but braces himself against the headboard, biting his lip, and he moves his finger past his dick, past his balls, lightly skimming across the perineum, coming up to touch the rim of his entrance, and Kyungsoo sucks in a breath when he slides just the tip of his index finger in, feeling how his muscles suck it in, so wet, so slippery.  
  
“Yeah, that’s good. Slide it in deeper, Kyungsoo, just get it in there, work that one finger in, slowly, pull it back out, then back in again. Come on, you can do it.”  
  
Kyungsoo fits it in, slow, inhaling cautiously as his muscles clench again, and his finger rubs up against his walls. It feels uncomfortable, strange, but there’s a slight spark of friction that makes him want to keep going, makes him want more of it. “Yeah,” he stutters out, “what’s next?”  
  
“Move it, curl it, Kyungsoo. Feel your finger inside yourself. And when you’re ready, slide in the second.” Kyungsoo does, and when he fits the second in, that’s when he begins to gasp, because the stretch can be felt, now, and he’s working it in, working the two fingers in and out, and he can feel it now, the friction, the rub, the little jolts of infinitesmal pleasure that shoot up his spine, bit by bit. “Are you feeling it now, Kyungsoo? How tight you are, how amazingly tight. Your virgin hole, being scissored open with those two fingers. Come on, Kyungsoo, deeper, I know you can, babe. You can take it, deeper, take more of it.”  
  
Kyungsoo steadies himself, biting his cheek, and he spreads his knees a little further, to allow him to slip the two fingers in up to the second knuckle, and oh. Oh god. Oh, fuck, he nearly whispers, when he moves his fingers apart slightly, and presses in, and hits something that sends a shockwave through his body, waves of pleasure ebbing through him, oh god, it’s the best thing he’s even felt. He groans softly, attempting to reach for it again, and he finds it, and now, he’s thrusting the two fingers in and out, hitting it over and over.  
  
“You’ve found your prostate, haven’t you? Enjoying yourself, aren’t you, now?” Baekhyun’s laugh makes him even more aroused, and by now, his cock is curved up against his stomach, leaking precome at the tip, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. “Would you like a third finger, Kyungsoo? Do you think you can take another, darling?”  
  
“Yeah,” breathes out Kyungsoo, rocking back into his hand, “I can—I can take it.”  
  
“Go on,” purrs Baekhyun, “slide that finger in, press it in so hard, you can’t see straight, fuck yourself on your hand, Kyungsoo, come on.”  
  
Kyungsoo does, and the third finger is when he lets out a loud groan, as he slowly works it into himself. It’s so tight, he’s so tight, and he feels like he’s bursting when he finally manages to fit it down all the way to the second knuckle, for all three fingers. He stops motion for a second, wipes the sweat from his brow with his free hand, and says, “Oh, fuck. Oh,  _fuck_ , Baekhyun. I just.”  
  
“You’re being so good for me, right now,” comes the whisper, louder than anything else right now, in this room of one and no other, “oh, babe, you’re being so amazing. You can do this, go on, fuck yourself, fuck yourself so good and so hard, use that hand and make yourself feel so good, now, Kyungsoo. Touch yourself, too, yeah, come on.”  
  
Kyungsoo wraps his other hand around his cock, strokes upwards just as he angles his fingers down, and hits his prostate again, and he throws his head back against the headboard, almost hitting it painfully as he hisses out a groan of Baekhyun’s name. He’s never experienced this before, this kind of pleasure, this kind of amazing pleasure, and it’s not even—it’s just his fingers.  
  
“Now,” says Baekhyun, and his voice is thick, and his words are stuttering, and Kyungsoo wonders if he’s getting off to this. If Baekhyun’s got his own hand around his dick, if Baekhyun’s jerking himself off to the thought of Kyungsoo with his fingers inside him, and the sound of his moans induced by his own words over the phone, and that just makes him stroke harder, and fuck faster into himself. “Imagine my fingers inside you, Kyungsoo. Imagine it’s me, my long, slim fingers, fucking into you, spreading you apart, taking you apart bit by bit, and making you feel so good.”  
  
“Yes,” groans Kyungsoo, panting, “god, yes, Baekhyun, please.”  
  
“Say my name, Kyungsoo,” moans Baekhyun, “come for me, say my name and come, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Baekhyun,” he chokes out, and he’s so close, so fucking close, he can feel it coming up on him like a tidal wave, and he comes in huge spurts all across his own stomach, white come dribbling from the tip as he clenches around his own fingers, and he comes so hard that his toes curl. “Baekhyun.”  
  
“Such a good boy,” breathes Baekhyun, and he groans too, and it’s a real groan now, not one that he’s just making for the situation, realises Kyungsoo hazily, as he jerks himself through the orgasm, Baekhyun’s actually getting off on this too, “oh god, oh, Kyungsoo.” His voice raises in pitch, and the soft hiccups of pleasure that sound through the earpiece of his phone only serve to make Kyungsoo feel hot all over again, burning, even as Baekhyun says his name.  
  
He imagines Baekhyun coming all over himself, on his shirt, or all over his desk, chin dipping against his chest as he curls in on himself, shuddering out Kyungsoo’s name as he grips at the edge of the desk with one hand, and the other around his cock.  
  
Kyungsoo has never been so turned on in his life. Oh fucking hell.  
  
“That was,” breathes Baekhyun, “very, very fun, don’t you think?” He already sounds composed. Jesus Christ. Kyungsoo wonders how he does it. “I’m sure you enjoyed yourself very much, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“I,” he says, reaching over to turn off speakerphone, and clutching it to his ear instead, “I did.”  
  
“Do you still regret calling this number now, then?” asks Baekhyun smugly.  
  
“Yes.” Kyungsoo snorts at the outraged sound Baekhyun makes over the phone. “But only sometimes.”  
  
He can practically feel the smile that shines through. “That’s better.”  
  
And Kyungsoo smiles back, unvoluntarily, and the realisation hits him. He’s so fucked.  
  
He likes Baekhyun.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t call him for the next few days. Or the entire week. He throws himself into homework and readings and assignments and learning new song covers with Chanyeol, and nope, not at all, he doesn’t think about Baekhyun and his voice at all, not a single bit.  
  
But he doesn’t expect to get, one day, a text message from an unknown number saying,  _why haven’t you called in so long?_ followed by a  _:c_  
  
Kyungsoo stares at his phone, heart thumping in his chest. Is that from Baekhyun? How did he get his number? And why is he using such a cute smiley? It should be illegal for him to sound cute, even via text message. Kyungsoo’s going mad. He can’t do this. He can’t reply to this. He can’t like Baekhyun.  
  
He saves the number under the initial,  _B_ , and spends the rest of the day looking at the text message.  
  
In the end, he gives in, because, hell, his self-restraint was shot to hell the first time he dialed the number on purpose. What will this change, anyway? He flips open the reply box, and types in slowly,  _how did you get my number._  
  
 _i saved it from the last time you called off the database :D_  comes the speedy reply.  
  
Doesn’t he have anything better to do? Kyungsoo types,  _that’s totally not creepy at all._  
  
 _your sarcasm is absolutely thrilling : < do you not want to talk to me or smth?_  
  
Kyungsoo can feel himself dying on the inside. Who uses smileys like that? Which grown man uses  _:c_  and  _: <_ in text conversations? Which grown man even uses smileys in conversations?  
  
This one does.  _kyungsoooooooooo :C_  
  
 _you just caught me off guard, that’s all._  
  
His phone lights up almost immediately, and a scramble of excited words meet his eyes.  _does that mean you dont mind me calling u instead now? :D_  
  
What has he gotten himself into?  
  
 _if. if you want to._  
  
All he receives in reply is a single smiley face.  
  
 _:3_  
  
And then the phone rings.  
  
Kyungsoo can’t not pick it up. He’s sitting in the middle of a café, with his laptop and his books, and people are starting to glance over at him and his phone blaring 10cm for everyone to hear.  
  
He answers it. “Hello?”  
  
“Hey,” comes Baekhyun’s voice, the grin so evident in the way his words curve. “How are you?”  
  
And surprisingly, Kyungsoo finds himself emulating that grin, as he leans into his coffee, and replies, “I’m good.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo has had pen-friends before. He’s made friends online, as well, on forums, and websites. This is something like that, right? Totally. Baekhyun is just a penpal. Something like that. There’s a line between what he is, and what he could become.  
  
There is a line, and Kyungsoo accidentally crosses it, when he says one day, without thinking, just as Baekhyun’s done describing his lunch, “I heard you laughing the other day.”  
  
“You hear me laughing everyday,” replies Baekhyun. “Well, almost.”  
  
“I mean,” says Kyungsoo, “I was having lunch with a friend when I heard your laugh coming from outside.”  
  
There is a definite pause. “You’re seriously not telling me we live in the same area, are you?”  
  
Kyungsoo rattles off the name of the district he lives in. Baekhyun is silent again.  
  
“I live barely fifteen minutes away,” comes the crackling response, and Kyungsoo shifts around to get better reception, “how is it that we haven’t met yet?”  
  
“We should change that,” says Kyungsoo, before his brain can filter that sentence, and just miliseconds after he’s said it, his eyes go wide, and his mind screams at him, what the fuck, don’t cross the line, but it’s too late, and he’s following it up with, “I mean—we should meet. If you want to.”  
  
“You want to meet me?” Baekhyun sounds… strange. Embarrased, almost. “I’m really. I’m not the same as I am, over the phone.”  
  
“As long as you’re not secretly a man in his forties,” says Kyungsoo, “though, I still wouldn’t mind that. Let’s change that to sixties, then.”  
  
Baekhyun chokes, and snorts. “I’m not, I promise. But, really? I never thought I’d hear that coming from your mouth.”  
  
“Things change, I guess.” Kyungsoo licks his lips nervously, heartbeat doing that one-step, two-step, that he despises. Feelings. Such strange, unpredictable things. He can’t go back on this now. “So, when are you free? Wait, no, hold on. Are you free on Saturday evening?”  
  
“Yeah. Why? Somewhere special?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He doesn’t tell Chanyeol that he’s invited someone.  
  
Kyungsoo figures it’d be hard to explain, considering how inquisitive Chanyeol can be, and once he finds out something, Jongdae finds out something, and the rest of the world finds out too, and their mothers and fathers and dogs and cats and parrots and cacti.  
  
All he does is prepare as he usually does, and occasionally takes a peek at the milling crowd from backstage, where Chanyeol is tuning his guitar and clearing his throat. Kyungsoo lets out a breath, warms up his throat. Five minutes later, he’s scanning the crowd again for Baekhyun, when he realises he doesn’t even know what Baekhyun looks like.  
  
Smart move.  
  
“Way to go,” he mutters, smacking himself on the forehead. Of course, Baekhyun had mentioned what he looked like before, and he did say that he’d be wearing a scarf tonight, but still. That’s nowhere near enough details to recognises somebody on first glance.  
  
One last look for a man in a scarf.  
  
There are seven. Kyungsoo looks upwards, raises his palms, and curses the cold weather.  
  
“Yo,” calls one of the stage-hands, “you guys are up next.”  
  
Kyungsoo prepares himself, running through the lyrics in his mind. Time to focus. Time to not think of how nervous he is about letting Baekhyun hear him sing, seeing him sing. Time to get out there on stage and do what he does best: let himself go in the music, let himself go in his voice, in their voices combined, in the harmonies that twist together and thrum bright with the rhythm of the guitar.  
  
“Hello,” says Kyungsoo, a soft mumble that echoes through the area, “we’re Slipper And Shoe, and we’re going to be performing a few covers for you tonight.”  
  
They start off with a remixed Primary hit, something quick and light that will get the mood up, and Kyungsoo loves this, loves the rush of performing on stage, absolutely enjoys singing his heart out into that microphone. Chanyeol’s rapping gets the crowd going, and it’s a smooth transition into a more acoustic-sounding track, that slides easily into a slow rendition of a BrotherSu song.  
  
They end well, and Kyungsoo’s bowing towards the crowd, when he catches sight of a man right up in the back, clapping.  
  
He’s wearing a bright red scarf. He’s got dark brown hair. The way he’s smiling is too wide and too familiar to be one merely appreciating the band. Their gazes meet, and the man mouths,  _it’s me._  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he mouths back,  _I’ll meet you in five._  
  
The man—no,  _Baekhyun_ , he sends Kyungsoo a thumbs up, and grins.  
  
Kyungsoo can feel his lips tugging at the corners.  
  
“Hey, Chanyeol,” he says quickly, “I’m going to go meet up with a friend, so you go on ahead back.”  
  
“A friend? Besides me?” Chanyeol presses his hand to his chest dramatically. “What a shocker!”  
  
“The only thing that will be more shocking is the position the police find your body in when I’m done with you,” says Kyungsoo conversationally.  
  
Chanyeol makes a terrified noise, and melts away, after waving him off, lugging his guitar out the door.  
  
Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Here goes.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Baekhyun smiles, and  _fuck_. Oh fuck. Kyungsoo didn’t expect him to actually be good-looking. He’s just about the same height as Kyungsoo. Hair pushed back, eyes lined, mouth small and pink. “Hey,” he says, and Kyungsoo can’t believe that same voice is coming out from this person in front of him, and not through the phone. A living, breathing person. Named Baekhyun. Who is horribly attractive.  
  
“So,” says Kyungsoo, very intelligently, “uh. This is it, then.”  
  
Baekhyun beams, even wider, and he’s got sharp little canines that stick out. Kyungsoo wants to run his tongue over them. “Let’s go get something to eat.”  
  
For all that they have spoken over the past few weeks, the walk to find a nearby café is silent. Their elbows bump occasionally, and Baekhyun merely mumbles a quick apology, and Kyungsoo giving him a curt nod, averting his gaze.  
  
They split a couple of croissants between them, and sit with mugs of coffee warming their hands. Baekhyun does have pretty fingers, observes Kyungsoo, as he’s sipping at his drink.  
  
“So,” says Baekhyun, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “I figured this would be a lot less. Quiet. You know. Since most of what we do is basically talk.”  
  
“You mean, since all of what we do is talk,” says Kyungsoo, and he watches Baekhyun’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Little curving crescents. He’s so fucked. “It’s strange,” he finally admits, “meeting you. Considering our choice of conversation topic.”  
  
“People have met over stranger things,” says Baekhyun, leaning forward. Kyungsoo can see all the lashes that frame his eyes. His traitorous mind wants to count them all. “Besides, we’ve had conversations over regular things, too.”  
  
Kyungsoo takes a sip of coffee. “Still,” he says, voice lowering slightly, not really wanting anyone to overhear them, “we met because of sex.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs. “While we’re on that page,” he says, “would you like to come back to my place with me after this?”  
  
 _Oh._ Kyungsoo stares at him, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is this a proposition?”  
  
“Absolutely,” says Baekhyun, and he drums his fingertips on the tabletop absentmindedly. He hasn’t stopped moving since they got in. A bright ball of energy, thinks Kyungsoo. “I’d hoped that you’d accept.”  
  
Kyungsoo clutches at his mug. Yes, they’ve only just met properly for the first time today. But does that really matter? They’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other, and today? Today seems like a nice first place to start with that. “Where is your place, exactly?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The second Baekhyun ushers Kyungsoo into his apartment, Kyungsoo barely has a moment to check it out—simple living room, tiny kitchen, a couple of doors, tacky paintings—before Baekhyun is knocking him back into the door, and pressing their mouths together urgently.  
  
Kyungsoo’s jaw drops, and Baekhyun takes the opportunity to kiss him deeper, sucking at his tongue, licking into his mouth, and Kyungsoo lets out a soft pant, hands coming up to twist into Baekhyun’s hair. “Baekhyun,” he breathes, and Baekhyun nips at his lower lip, nudges their noses together.  
  
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first moment I saw you step on that stage,” whispers Baekhyun, eyes bright, “you opened your mouth and sang, Christ, Kyungsoo, I’m so—I couldn’t help it.”  
  
“You have a thing for me singing?” Kyungsoo nearly laughs, and he kisses Baekhyun this time, enjoying how soft his lips feel under his own, how warm his palms are against Kyungsoo’s stomach. “Wasn’t this supposed to be the other way around?”  
  
“Both of us can play the same game, right?” Baekhyun’s fingers toy at the waistband of his jeans. “You know all of that stuff I said? I want you to do all of that to me.”  
  
A rush of energy floods Kyungsoo anew. He clasps a hand over Baekhyun’s wrist, and says, “What are you waiting for then?”  
  
They tumble to Baekhyun’s bedroom, a tiny little thing with a single bed that can barely fit them both, but Baekhyun swears that’s more than enough space for what they’re gonna do.  
  
“Are you going to talk dirty to me, then?” says Kyungsoo, as Baekhyun’s tugging Kyungsoo’s pants down, attempting to kiss him at the same time, as Kyungsoo’s pushing Baekhyun back into the sheets. “Use that mouth of yours again?”  
  
“I’m off work right now,” says Baekhyun, all cheek, and he finally wrestles Kyungsoo’s shirt off. “I want to hear you, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Me?” Kyungsoo straddles his waist, and asks, “What do you want me to say, Baekhyun?”  
  
“You know.” Baekhyun reaches out to stroke a finger down Kyungsoo’s clavicle, so light, so fleeting. A shiver shudders through Kyungsoo. Baekhyun looks so good, spread out beneath him like this. This is probably the wildest thing he’s ever done in his life. And he regrets none of it. “Tell me how much you want to fuck me, Kyungsoo. Tell me about how you want to hear me say your name. Tell me about how much you want me, Kyungsoo. Come on, darling.”  
  
“I told you not to call me that,” says Kyungsoo, but he dips his head to suck a bruising kiss into Baekhyun’s neck, and Baekhyun’s clawing down his arm, exhaling sharply. “I… I want. I want to fuck you. I want you on your back—I want you under me, I want to hear you scream my name when you’re coming.” Kyungsoo knows his face is probably flushed the deepest shade of red, after saying all of that.  
  
Baekhyun rolls his hips up against Kyungsoo’s, making Kyungsoo’s breath hitch momentarily. “Then come on,” he says, grinning, “I’ll talk you through it.”  
  
His fingers are slick with lube as he presses the tip of his index finger to Baekhyun’s entrance, slowly pushing in, as Baekhyun braces himself back, and says, almost eagerly, “Yeah, that’s right. That’s it. Put your fingers in me, slow, steady. I can take another. Come on, Kyungsoo—yes, god, ah, please—Kyungsoo, please.” Kyungsoo’s got two in Baekhyun now, and then three, as Baekhyun encourages him further, and soon, Baekhyun gets out, “That’s good, yeah, that’s good. I want your cock in me, Kyungsoo. Please.”  
  
“Go on,” says Kyungsoo, biting back a groan as he slips on a condom, and lubes up his cock with a slippery hand, feeling the slide as he gets himself worked up more. “Baekhyun, say it.”  
  
“Kyungsoo,” moans Baekhyun, “please, fuck me now. I want to feel you inside me, I want to feel how good you are, come on, make me feel good, Kyungsoo,  _please_.”  
  
The first thrust is tight, tighter than Kyungsoo’s ever felt. Baekhyun clenches around him, and Kyungsoo digs his fingers into Baekhyun’s hips painfully, eyes fluttering and mouth dropping with each push in, and pull out. Kyungsoo’s burning up from the inside, burning from the pleasure, it’s so good, so fucking good, and he’s never experienced this before, how the tightness of Baekhyun around his cock sends waves of arousal through his entire body, and Kyungsoo just  _wants craves desires_  needs more.  
  
“Fuck,” groans Baekhyun. Sweat rolling down his skin, cheeks red-hot and entire body trembling, he looks beautiful, thinks Kyungsoo. “Kyungsoo, please,  _harder_ , faster.”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether he’s doing this right, or doing this well, but all he knows right now is the heat of Baekhyun’s body under him, and the way he’s just looking at him so needily, and Kyungsoo begins to thrust in and out harder, angling it just so that he hits deep inside Baekhyun where it makes his limbs tense up and the veins in his neck stand out as he rolls his head back against the pillow, mouth stretched open in a soundless cry.  
  
He doesn’t last long, and he comes with a loud shout of Baekhyun’s name, forehead pressed to the curve of Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun makes a frustrated sound when Kyungsoo pulls out, having not come yet, but Kyungsoo reaches over to jerk him off, quick and rushed and just messy, and Baekhyun spills out over his fist, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips.  
  
“Mm,” hums Baekhyun, apparently too lazy to move after that heady orgasm of his. Kyungsoo wants a shower, so he drags Baekhyun up easily (also apparently very pliant after orgasms) and spends the next twenty minutes rotating between soaping himself off, and letting Baekhyun suck his dick as his palms hold steady against the tiled walls.  
  
They drape themselves across Baekhyun’s tiny sofa after that, processing what’s just happened. Kyungsoo finds himself staring at the ceiling, wondering when his judgement had lapsed so bad he’d find it reasonable to have sex with someone he’d just met today.  
  
But was it really just today, that they met?  
  
Kyungsoo glances over at Baekhyun, and even though his face is new, he feels familiar to Kyungsoo, now. Maybe it’s the weeks of speaking over the phone, weeks of light banter and teasing, weeks of spilling the dirtiest words known to mankind over dim lights in bedrooms. Maybe it’s just himself, that little part of him saying,  _are you scared of something, Do Kyungsoo?_  
  
“So,” says Baekhyun suddenly, interrupting his train of thought, “is this where you leave and never come back again? Because I’m really hoping that this isn’t just a one time thing.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun, really looks at him, and he can see traces of their conversations in him. The way he laughs can be seen in the lines at the corners of his eyes. The time Baekhyun had mentioned his love for old bands can be seen in the faded Boohwal t-shirt he’s wearing, looking so worn out and worn in, probably shrunk in the wash after years of reuse, as it’s riding up just enough to reveal a bit of skin. The time he’d talked about his habit of biting his fingernails can be observed in the chewed-on ends of his nails, as he fidgets with the hem of Kyungsoo’s own shirt.  
  
“No,” says Kyungsoo, and he surprises himself with that answer. But not really. “I’d like—I’d like for it to be more than a one time thing too.” Even though this might seem ridiculous to anyone else, Kyungsoo figures, it’s time he took a chance on things. No matter how strangely said things begin. Like, for example, off the scrawl of a phone number on a piece of paper.  
  
Baekhyun smiles, and Kyungsoo’s fast getting addicted to them, and Baekhyun leans over to plant a light kiss on his mouth. “I hope you don’t mind that my job comes along with me.”  
  
Kyungsoo just kisses him again, and says, “If you let me listen in, maybe.”  
  
Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, Kyungsoo brings Baekhyun along to movie/pizza night, wanting to finally let the other two know that he’s got someone. Kind of. Yeah. He’s got Baekhyun, now. Even if their relationship seems a bit strange, what with Baekhyun still working as a phone sex operator, and Kyungsoo just being. Well. Kyungsoo.  
  
He’s completely expecting them to spit their drinks out or drop their jaws on the floor, or something similar to that effect.  
  
Instead, he’s the one whose eyes widen when he opens the door, and Jongdae and Chanyeol both glance up to say, “Hey, Kyungsoo. Hey, Baekhyun. About time.”  
  
Baekhyun splutters. “These two idiots are your best friends?”  
  
“How do you even know them,” asks Kyungsoo, but he’s staring at the terrible two, who are just smiling innocently back at him.  
  
“We were in high-school together.”  
  
“Was this a set up or something?” Kyungsoo can’t believe those two. The whole thing about the phone number being wrong—Christ, Kyungsoo didn’t even see that coming. “ _Guys._ ”  
  
“What?” Chanyeol looks exasperated. “We do you a favour, and all you want to do is complain? Where’s the gratitude, Kyungsoo? And Baekhyun too, for that matter.”  
  
“You assholes,” roars Baekhyun, and he attempts to strangle Chanyeol.  
  
Kyungsoo just watches. He never knew Baekhyun had it in him.  
  
“But, well,” says Kyungsoo, interrupting the showdown, “for once, their meddling turned out okay, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Baekhyun straightens up from where he’s whomping on Jongdae with a couch pillow, and his smile is brilliant as he turns to Kyungsoo. “More than okay.”  
  
Jongdae mock-gags.  
  
Baekhyun smacks him again with the pillow.  
  
“So!” says Chanyeol cheerfully, “what are we watching tonight? Scoot over, Jongdae, let the lovebirds take the end together.”  
  
As they settle into the movie (for once, Chanyeol and Jongdae agreeing on watching  _A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy_  with barely any argument, what a miracle), Kyungsoo finds Baekhyun’s hand, and threads their fingers together, resting his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. He can feel the breath that Baekhyun releases as he turns to nuzzle his nose against Kyungsoo’s hair, and the little murmur of, “You’re so cute, darling.”  
  
And for once, Kyungsoo doesn’t complain, but settles into Baekhyun’s warmth.


End file.
